


An Embarrassment of Suitors

by annewilco



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2288870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annewilco/pseuds/annewilco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A warrior and lady both, Sif felt capable of being a fair judge to a worthy suitor. </p><p>Trouble is few men of honor seemed to present themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Embarrassment of Suitors

It is not light that we need, but fire;

it is not the gentle shower, but thunder.

We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake.

—Frederick Douglass

 

 

 

Sif always believed herself a woman of honor, the kind who would face an enemy in open battle without hesitation. She would not kill an unarmed man unless provoked nor give oaths lightly. Ever dutiful, she was polite to foreign dignitaries and kindly to the lowest servant as befitting a lady of noble birth. A warrior and lady both, she felt capable of being a fair judge, able to consider a courting suit from a worthy suitor.

Trouble is few men of honor seemed to present themselves, at least, while sober.

Just two moons past the eldest son of Lord Staal, deep in his cups, boldly proposed marriage in a lively Vanaheim alehouse. The Lady Sif listened while carefully carving a portion of roast beast, keenly aware of the other patrons open amusement at her unfolding drama. She spared a glace at her compatriots.

Beside her Volstagg muffled a laugh beneath his beer stein; Fandral's lips curled knowingly; Hogun's brow furrowed (he had once fought alongside the drunken lad's father. Pity). The youth finished laying his slurred suit to the ever-increasing roar of the tavern's riotous laughter. At last, Sif stood to her full height, meeting the young man's bleary eyes.

Sif grabbed his collar and swept the would-be suitor in a single leg throw, hurling him somewhere beyond her shoulder. She cared not where he landed.

The drunkard landed on a tier of ale barrels, contents long emptied, and the chorus of laughter halted at the hollow crash.

"Say, Sif," Fandral mused over the sound of Volstagg's guffaws, "how did you know those barrels were empty?"

"I didn't."

\---------------------

Lord Staal's foolhardy son was simply a fresh example. Tavern brawls with drunken fools were easy enough for Sif to dispatch alone. Long ago, Thor, Loki, and the Warriors Three would rise in unison to defend their comrade's honor. Sif could handle herself even then, but why deprive the group a satisfying brawl?

There had been other suitors of course. Most were even less successful than Lord Staal's unfortunate son, but a few were worth listing if only for the notoriety: a tattooed Midgardian corsair, a Dwarf Lord of singular wealth possessing a large... hammer, and an Aesir Magistrate of the Lower House, twice widowed under suspicious circumstances. In no mood for jests or sport, Sif had dismissed the rest flat out.

Such incidents were thankfully fewer in number and now went unremarked with her reputation as sworn shieldmaiden to Asgard firmly cemented.

But contrary to popular belief the Lady Sif did not possess a stone heart. She did not forsake the company of men like Valhalla's Valkyries nor did she deny the company of her bed like a Vestal of Svartálfar's third moon. Volstagg alone seemed to know her mind without words, likely as he was the only member of their group to be married with a daughter.

Lady Sif was simply unmoved.

In her salad days there was at least one admirer who had turned her head - a girlhood crush on a flirtatious Elvin delegate shortly after her 900th year. Alas, their summer-long courtship came to nothing as Loki escorted Sif round a corner in Queen Frigga's garden to find the Elf in question weaving moon-blossoms into Lady Sigyn's golden hair, just as he had done to Sif's own tresses a fortnight prior.

"Truly, it was a lucky escape, my Lady," the young Prince had offered, his pale eyes unreadable.

Forever afterward Sif remained cordial to Sigyn, but secretly could not shake the feeling of being found wanting.

And if Sif felt uncomfortable meeting Prince Loki's eyes she never mentioned it.

**Author's Note:**

> Work in progress.


End file.
